Some things are worth noticing, but aren't worth writing down. They just aren't that important or useful. This is about the other things.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Stop, here.

Morning drive-by:A kid, nineteen or twenty, loping along in long, baggy cargo shorts and a t-shirt that swallowed him. Tanned like a road worker, white-rimmed sunglasses, short, hair. A buzzcut. Looking too serious for his years, he stood at the side of the road watching traffic to the left and right. I stopped and waved him across but he turned his back to me.Then he held up a hand, and yelled, "Okay, stop here." A dozen four year olds, all in little red shirts that matched his came to a halt, then formed a single crooked line. Like a momma duck, he led them across, standing in the middle of the road until they scampered to safety.

A teenage camp counselor, taking the job seriously. I knew this kid was a hero to someone in that little group if only because of the white rimmed sunglasses, big shorts and because he probably called them "dude."